


A Lack of Love Spells

by AuthenticAussie



Series: and we can watch the stars on the water [54]
Category: Merlin (TV), One Piece
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-25
Updated: 2015-12-25
Packaged: 2018-05-08 16:02:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5503976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AuthenticAussie/pseuds/AuthenticAussie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Come dance with me.”</p><p>“I-,” Marco said, taken back by the offer, “I’m not the best dancer, your highness.”</p><p>“Well I have lost much of my co-ordination,” Ace replied with a nonchalant shrug.</p><p>“Isn’t it customary for one to dance with a lover or a pretty girl?” Marco said, slowly letting himself be tugged closer to the band.</p><p>“Exactly,” Ace said with laugh, “And aren’t you the prettiest one here?”</p><p>“I believe the title is reserved for you, yoi,” Marco said softly, and when Ace chucked his head back to laugh, firelight making his skin gold, Marco realised with startling certainty that he’d said the remark in all seriousness.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Lack of Love Spells

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lunarshores (damichan)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/damichan/gifts).



> A Christmas gift for the lovely lunarshores~ Hope you enjoy!

When Marco had first come to the palace one of his first thoughts had been that the prince of Camelot – Ace – was an absolute _dick._

A pretty dick (not that Marco ever spent time thinking about his dick!), but nonetheless an absolute ass, a stubborn fool if he’d ever met one, and a person that Marco was sure he’d never feel more than an irritated sort of forced loyalty for.

Then _Ace_ had happened.

And, somehow, Marco found his reluctant loyalty grow into grudging respect. It didn’t help that about a week into his first truant around Camelot’s castle he’d somehow stumbled across a _dragon._

A _dragon._

Honestly, it’d been months, and he was still trying to process that one.  

The dragon – who’d kindly introduced herself as Robin – had set off more than one alarm bell in Marco’s head, but though her remarks were cryptic once he’d solved them her advice was… _usually_ sound.

And when Robin had told him about the prophecy – that Marco would have to protect Ace, lest Camelot fall to ruins – well, he’d been angry at first, annoyed with the prospect at having to stay close to an idiot who seemed to find himself in trouble more often than not. Even Ace’s adopted sister, Nami, could do little to keep him out of trouble, and Nami managed to keep most of the knights in the castle completely in line.

They were _knights._ Marco’s opinion of them wasn’t very high, and anyone that could keep a _knight_ out of trouble immediately earned his respect.

Then Marco had started to notice a disturbing trend to all of Ace’s ‘troubles’. Namely, that if Marco hadn’t been there, or if Ace’s reflexes had been a tiny bit slower, he very likely could have ended up dead.

It was after a particularly close call that Ace touched him casually for the first time; he’d clapped his hand on Marco’s shoulder, giving him a grin that did something stupid to Marco’s stomach. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were trying to kill me!”

Marco remained flabbergasted, staring at Ace and trying to form a coherent sentence, before finally managing, “Your highness, if I was trying to kill you I’d do a better job of it.”

Ace burst into laughter, white teeth flashing into another wide smile, and his hand slipped off Marco’s shoulder as he strode from the throne room. Before Marco could even fully process what had happened, however, or why Ace was being so damn _nice,_ Ace shot over his shoulder, “Make sure you clean that up, eh?”

Marco stared at the ruined remnants of the chandelier and grit his teeth.

Maybe next time he’d just _let_ Ace get squashed under whatever decided to fall on him. At least then Marco wouldn’t have to clean up the mess. 

 

* * *

 About a week and a half after the chandelier incident was the second time (not that Marco was keeping count!) Ace ended up touching him casually. As Marco bypassed Ace’s desk, trying to clean up the mess Ace always made out of his belongings, Ace stretched his hand out, fingers brushing Marco’s forearm.

Marco almost jumped, but instead squashed the urge and turned his attention to Ace. “Yes, your highness?”

“Thanks, Marco.” Ace offered him a smile, even as Marco’s expression fell into shock.

“Sire, are you sick?” he demanded, manoeuvring the clothes he held so he could place a hand on Ace’s forehead to check for a temperature, for a moment forgetting propriety in his – was that _worry_? – concern. “I can get Thatch and Izo to prepare-”

Ace started to laugh, and Marco quickly snatched his hand away, sure that in about two seconds Ace was going to order it removed from Marco’s arm. He remembered when he’d first met Ace, how angry Ace had been when Marco had stood up to Ace’s annoying taunts. Marco had been put in the stocks, and hadn’t even _done_ anything but speak! What was the punishment for touching the crown prince, even if said crown prince had instigated it?

“Nice to know you care,” Ace said teasingly, making no mention of Marco’s blunder, and he felt his skin prickle uncomfortably, unused to the small slips in Ace’s usually arrogant and irresponsible demeanour.

“It’s part of my job, yoi.” Marco answered stiffly, and Ace’s laughter died.

Ace regarded him for half a second, expression a puzzle Marco had no idea how to decipher, and then stammered out, “Right. Yeah. I apologise, Marco.” He bent back over his maps, waving a hand to dismiss Marco. “You can go back to work.”

Marco bowed his head, knowing that Ace wouldn’t see it as he went on his way, mind abuzz with questions. Was this a spell? Had Ace been drugged with some sort of poison? Marco couldn’t think of any other reason Ace would be acting so strange if not for the use of magic, but what type of magic it was-

Well, he had no clue.

On principal, he stayed away from spells that could influence another’s emotions, and though his magic was largely instinctual, he’d had more than enough experience of times when his freedom had been taken away and he’d been forced into silence. His very magic was a secret that pinched his tongue and kept him from forming friendships, and he had no wish to enforce a vow of silence on anyone that didn’t choose it for themselves.

Quickly putting Ace’s clothes away, Marco cast a glance back at Ace’s hunched form and decided that if he was fast enough he could get to Robin and question her on what sort of spell would have Ace acting-

Well, polite.

He ducked behind the foldout that Ace usually changed behind and with a quiet snap of his fingers found himself in the catacombs deep beneath the castle.

Robin gave a low rumble of surprise, stretching out her wingspan before settling.

“Ah, the young wizard.” She said with a toothy smile, “What, pray tell, are you doing here?”

“I think Ace has been cursed,” Marco said with no preamble, knowing that if he exchanged their usual pleasantries he’d be there for half the night, and Ace wouldn’t be so oblivious as to not notice Marco vanishing and turning up hours later.

Robin, however, stared at him with an expression akin to puzzlement. “And why would you think that?”

“He’s being _nice,_ yoi!” Marco said, crossing his arms across his chest. “He’s started to touch my arm or shoulder whenever he wishes to get my attention, and he _thanked_ me today! He _never_ thanks me.”

Robin stared at him for half a moment more, and then Marco saw her lips begin to upturn. A loud laugh filled the cavern, and Marco frowned, irritated with her behaviour.

“Little one,” she said, leaning her long neck down to his perch, “maybe the answer is not in magic. There are many different reasons that a person may change for. Just encourage him! You’ll likely be quite happy with the outcome, I assure you.”

Marco gave an annoyed huff, but upon realising that he wouldn’t get any more information out of Robin – as per her usual cryptic answers – he snapped his fingers again and found himself back in Ace’s room. Ace was still hunched over his maps, and Marco gave a quiet sigh of relief before beginning his chores anew.

His mind, however, was a million miles away, trying to figure out what on earth would cause Ace’s change, if not for magic. 

 

* * *

The Midwinter ball was the most stressful time of Marco’s life.

For some reason, his magic had been on the fritz for the entire week before, leading to _way_ to many narrow escapes when he’d just barely managed to cover his sparking hands, or keep Ace out of danger’s path. He was ninety percent that Ace now thought that Marco had a grudge against gloves, but anything was better than him suspecting that Marco had magic.

Then, on the morning of the Midwinter ball, Marco found himself unable to use his magic at all. He’d woken up with nothing, not even the most simple spell, and had suspected at first that maybe it was the Midwinter magic interfering with his own – until Izo had let his hands glow a soft violet, throwing Marco’s theory out the window.

Marco had spent the whole day in a growing state of frantic worry, trying to figure out what on earth was blocking his powers, and running around after Ace, who seemed to somehow be even _more_ unlucky than he usually was.

Already seventeen decorative weapons had almost fallen on him, two tables had somehow been upended and sent sharp knives in Ace’s direction, Ace had almost swallowed and choked on four chicken bones during his midafternoon snack, and he’d almost been tripped out of _seven_ separate windows.

Marco _definitely_ suspected foul play.

He had little chance to do anything about it, however, run ragged by his attempts to save Ace without using his magic. He’d never known how much _easier_ it was to keep up with Ace’s shenanigans when he could teleport. Marco was never taking his powers for granted again.

Breathless from Ace’s latest misadventure (a to-sharp lance in the Midwinter carnival contests that he’d only just managed to stop) Marco leaned against one of the castle walls, silently hoping that Robin would help him in his plight.

Instead of a cryptic dragon, however, he got Izo swishing to a stop in front of him, smoothing out the front of his robes. “I’ve been reading up on anything that might help your-” he paused, and inclined his head slightly, “situation. Apparently, midnight helps to reset and implement-,” he paused again, searching for a word that could work as a synonym for magic before entirely giving up, “situations. Midwinter midnights are the best time for this, but after midnight on the actual Midwinter, all the situations break.”

“You need a much better code word, yoi,” Marco said, the hint of a smile around his mouth as Izo haughtily lifted his chin. “But seriously - thanks, Izo.”

Izo looked mollified, inclining his head in acceptance, but then a smirk twisted his lips. “So?” he asked, “What’s the plan to take care of your pretty boy?”

Marco frowned, puzzled for a moment, before realisation hit him and he jolted. “He’s not _mine._ ”

“Oh, but you’re not denying that he’s pretty.”

“ _Izo,_ ” Marco said, his mouth falling open, “that is an entirely inappropriate topic of discussion-”

“I’d say,” Izo said, arching his eyebrows and giving Marco a blatant look, and Marco narrowed his eyes into a glare.

“You stop that.” He growled, “I’m not getting beheaded because you want to gossip about the crown prince.”

“Who’s gossiping about my brother?” a feminine voice called from behind them, and Marco felt his stomach sink. Izo’s expression, however, only lit up.

“Nami!” he called delightedly, and she came over, her usual catty smirk on her lips. “We were just discussing-”

Marco placed his hand over Izo’s mouth, giving a low bow to Nami. “Nothing important, your highness.”

“Anything to do with you is important to my brother,” Nami replied.

Marco frowned, trying to puzzle through what she meant, and while he was distracted Izo peeled away Marco’s hand.

“My dear, don’t say such things. He’ll overheat trying to understand.”

“I am not a furnace, yoi,” Marco said stiffly, unable to deny the annoyance that seeped into his tone. Nami blatantly laughed at him, and hooked her arm into Izo’s, tugging him towards the festivities and pushing on Marco’s shoulder to get him to move along.

“Why don’t you go make yourself useful and see what my brother needs, hm? Though I can think of one thing you aren’t readily supplying…”

Izo gently elbowed her, and Marco was left staring at the both of them in confusion as they vanished into the crowd. He was left with little time to process the conversation, however, as someone gave a loud scream.

 _Oh not again,_ he thought, muffling a curse but then sprinting towards the mess. He knew he’d likely find Ace somewhere in the middle of it.

By the time that had been sorted out and the crisis averted, people had started to shuffle inside or to their homes to get ready for the feast. Marco was forced to diligently trail behind Ace, skin itching with the need to investigate and prevent anything awful from happening, but he couldn’t think of any good excuse to get him out of work.

At least, however, being around Ace meant that Marco was able to prevent any other instances. Ace’s hairbrush attempting to attack him was the tip of the iceburg, really, and one that Marco found himself hard pressed to explain.

Thankfully, after that incident everything had progressed relatively calmly. He couldn’t shake the sinking feeling that this was just the beginning, however. Ace’s hidden enemy had threatened Ace’s life all day, and had taken away Marco’s magic to do so. They were surely saving up for a grand movement during the feast, when everyone was to lethargic from good food and wine to do much.

He spent the whole ball on edge, trying to figure out who could possibly be the one that wanted to hurt Ace, and it left him little time to relax.

Somehow, Ace noticed.

The first Marco knew of Ace’s concern was a persistent tug on his arm. Smelling slightly like alcohol, Ace offered Marco one of the dopy grins that set his stomach twisting. “Come dance with me.”

“I-,” Marco said, taken back by the offer, “I’m not the best dancer, your highness.”

“Well I have lost much of my co-ordination,” Ace replied with a nonchalant shrug.

“Isn’t it customary for one to dance with a lover or a pretty girl?” Marco said, slowly letting himself be tugged closer to the band.

“Exactly,” Ace said with laugh, “And aren’t you the prettiest one here?”

Marco’s stomach twisted even tighter, and he could feel his cheeks begin to burn; his whole body felt like a spark, light and bright, and he couldn’t even pinpoint the reason why. Maybe Ace’s alcohol had somehow seeped into Marco’s body from where they touched. It certainly felt like it, what with how warm Ace’s hands felt as they settled against Marco’s skin.

“I believe the title is reserved for you, yoi,” Marco said softly, and when Ace chucked his head back to laugh, firelight making his skin gold, Marco realised with startling certainty that he’d said the remark in all seriousness.

Marco lost track of time as they danced, going through the motions of slow songs and fast songs and completely distracted by the pressure of Ace’s hand on his shoulder and Ace’s lips as he mouthed the words to songs he knew, and talked through the rest.

Midnight drew closer without Marco realising.

His only warning that something was about to happen was the faintest prickling on the back of his neck, and he straightened from his stupor, head whipping around to try and figure out where it had come from.

“Marco?” Ace asked, just as Marco realised that the castle’s guests were frozen around them, caught in whatever positions they’d occupied before the spell had been cast. How had he gotten so caught up in Ace that he didn’t notice the band sliding to a stop, or the chatter fading?

Ace pulled away from him, noticing at the same time that everyone around them was completely frozen. He stomped forwards to the closest dancer, clapping his hands in front of their face. They didn’t move, and Ace’s enraged expression turned to horror.

“Magic,” he whispered, and crossed his heart against evil. Marco tried not to flinch back from the gesture, knowing that Ace didn’t mean it against him-

But it still hurt.

Marco scanned the crowd in a futile attempt to figure out who’d cast the spell, finally alighting on a small, portly noble. He quivered with the effort it took to hold still, and Marco felt his lip curl.

“It’s easy to spot someone moving in a sea of frozen people, yoi,” he said, and the noble froze for real before slowly relaxing, giving Marco a grin.  

“You’re as good as they say you are,” the noble admitted, before giving a braying laugh. “But you are nothing without your gifts!”

He cast his hand out, a wide pink beam aimed straight at Marco, who quickly ducked out of the way, behind a group of people frozen mid-conversation. Something almost akin to lethargy tugged at his limbs, but he’d avoided the worst of it.

Sudden, horrid silence met his ears.

_Ace._

Marco whipped his head forwards, trying to locate where Ace had gone, and felt his shoulders slump when he spotted Ace hiding behind a table. “Thank god,” he breathed, and his relief was the only excuse he could use; he caught Ace making a panicked gesture, and only just managed to throw himself out of the way as the noble rounded on Marco’s hiding place.  

He darted behind an ice sculpture in a futile attempt to hide, barely managing to slide out of the way when the noble came around again, his magic primed to freeze Marco to the spot. His heart pounded frantically, and he couldn’t help but pray that midnight was close. Even if he had to reveal his powers, he _needed_ them – otherwise he and Ace weren’t going to get out of this alive.

The only thing he could see, however, was the slowly dying fire, and he couldn’t help but pray that it went out soon. All the lights at Midwinter were extinguished to welcome the turning point of the seasons, and Marco didn’t want to have the fires lit again with someone new sitting on top the throne.  

A sharp clang caught his attention, and Marco whipped his head around the table to see that Ace had thrown one of the many platters of food at the noble in an attempt to distract him from Marco. _Idiot,_ he silently cursed, sprinting from his cover and tackling the noble before his blast of magic could hit Ace.

The pink beam was sent off course, but Marco got hit with the backlash; he found himself frozen, moving so slowly that it seemed he wasn’t moving at all. His heart ricocheted, thumping in his chest desperately, and he could only see Ace from the corner of his eye, darting frantically around frozen people and narrowly avoiding the noble’s magic.

Desperately he tried to call for his magic, needing to know that Ace was safe – that Marco would be able to protect him – but nothing happened. He was left as powerless as a normal human, frozen like the rest of the guests.

Ace disappeared from his sight, and Marco felt his insides twist in worry, even as he focused on the fire in front of him and willed it to die faster. The throne room was already almost dark, and if the fire would just go _out-_

The last fading embers finally flickered and the room was cast into darkness.

He staggered as the spell faded, hearing quiet cries of surprise as people sprung back to life around him, but he was already preoccupied, summoning a cloak from one of the nobles he’d seen before and throwing it over his shoulders before his hands sparked to life with blue magic.

The whole throne room lit up in cool blue, and he heard someone shriek, “ _Magician!_ ”

Marco felt his heart stop in fear, the instinct long buried in his chest, but he couldn’t allow it to paralyse him, however, and shoved down the feeling. No matter what, he had to protect Ace.

He turned on his heel, searching the fearful crowd, and finally spotted Ace, cornered by the noble. A sharp breath hissed through his teeth, and he felt magic curl around his arms, snapping and popping like a fire as he sent it straight into the noble’s back.

He was sent flying, and Marco breathed a silent sight of relief, glad Ace was out of danger, before he was forced another one of the spells the noble sent his way. A whole series of light pink blasts hit his magic, and he gritted his teeth, throwing back his own spells, trying to fight against the control magic that the noble was using. With a sudden bang their magics cancelled out, shrouding the feasting hall in fine purple mist.

“I’ll be back!” he heard the noble cry in outrage, and then felt the last dregs of their magic evaporate, as his mist was starting to do. “Mark my words, magician, I’ll return!”

He silently thanked the hood he’d stolen, for at least in the chaos people may not have seen his features clearly. He was about to shed it and collapse to the ground like many of the other guests when he suddenly saw a figure darted through the fine fog. Marco prepared himself to fight even as exhaustion clung to his bones; the noble may have been coming back, and Marco refused to let himself rest until Ace was safe-

Ace skidded to a stop in front of him, and for a brief second their eyes met.

No hint of recognition or shock passed across his features, however, and Marco bought his palm to his lips, blowing across some of the last dregs of sparkling blue that still clung to his skin. “ _Sleep,_ ” he whispered, and watched as Ace slowly sunk to the floor.  

 _Thank god,_ he thought, staring through the purple haze at Ace’s slumped body. _I don’t know what I’d do if he died._

Then, he promptly passed out. 

 

* * *

In the weird sort of half-sensation that one got while they were awake-but-not-really, Ace knew that he was dreaming. The cloaked figure in front of him, shrouded in shadows and lit only by the neon glow of blue sparks, just helped to solidify that fact.

Ace found himself unable to move, though whether it was because he was petrified in fear or curiosity, he didn’t know. Magic had been outlawed ever since he’d been born, and to have someone so blatantly wielding magic in front of him…

Well, Ace had been called reckless more than once.

A sense of confusing familiarity washed over him and Ace squinted, trying to place the magician's face. Their lips moved soundlessly, and Ace stepped closer, needing desperately to know what they were saying; however, understanding eluded him.

He _knew_ this from somewhere, knew that particular purse of pressed lips as they spoke, but for the life of him he couldn’t figure out _where_ he’d seen that face before. It didn’t help that half of said face was somehow blurred, and Ace could only attribute that to his stupid dream.

More of his vision began to darken, the magician’s features swimming even further into obscurity, and Ace cursed, rushing forwards in a futile attempt to get closer and maybe see the magician’s face in more clarity.

For a brief second he almost caught the flash of brilliant blue eyes, but as his brain pulled him from sleep, details slipped away until all he was left with was the dancing sensation of familiarity, and the hollow knowledge that his dream had – somehow – been important.

Marco was worriedly hovering over him as he managed to pull himself from the grip of sleep, and Ace squinted, rubbing at his eyes before sleepily mumbling, “Marco?”

His concerned expression faded into his usual blank face, and Marco straightened, tugging some of Ace’s books from beneath his cheek. “Ace, you need to get some sleep.”

 _Sleep,_ Ace thought drowsily, _I’d totally sleep with you…_ He stared distractedly at Marco’s mouth, watching him carefully form more words, but then realisation shot through him like a bolt of lightning and he jolted up, mouth dropping open. “You- you-”

_Marco was the magician._

Marco frowned at him, and Ace felt his mouth open and close uselessly. “You- you’re probably right,” he laughed awkwardly, and then paused, thinking over what Marco said. “You said my name.”

Marco looked taken back, but Ace could feel a grin start to grow on his cheeks. He could see an apology formed on Marco’s lips (and wasn’t that the highlight of his night? He’d spent so long staring at Marco’s lips that he could _recognise_ Marco by them.)

“It’s fine,” he butted in before Marco could say anything, pushing his chair back and laying his hand over Marco’s mouth. “I think I prefer it, actually, from you.” Marco blinked at him uselessly, and Ace peeled his hand away, offering a smile instead. He shuffled Marco to the door, propping it open with his hip. “Night, Marco.”

“Night-” he paused, and Ace bit his tongue, refusing to force it but internally delighting when Marco continued. “Ace.”

Impulsively, stomach a giddy twist of exhilaration, Ace rose on his tiptoes and pressed a kiss to the corner of Marco’s mouth. “See you in the morning.”

It was Marco’s second turn of the night to look shocked, frozen as Ace closed the thick wooden door in his face. Ace could feel his heart thumping like a brass drum.

 _He called me Ace,_ he thought to himself giddily, and knew with sudden certainty that with everything that’d happened tonight – Marco calling him by his _name,_ for the very first time, that Ace had kissed him, for the very first time, that Marco had been had woken him instead of letting him sleep over his books like he usually did, that Marco was the magician that’d saved him at the Midwinter ball (and that certainly explained why Marco hadn’t been around when Ace woke up from his strange sleep; he’d probably vanished in an attempt to keep his identity hidden), simply that Marco was a magician-!

Ace felt his stomach twist, and had to fight back a joyous laugh.

Well, he certainly wasn’t going to be able to sleep for quite a while now. 

 

 

* * *

It always took Marco a few days to process new things; he could react with ease when it came to a battle situation, but when it involved anyone else-

Well, it was just a little bit harder.

He supposed that was why he had people like Izo and (while not a person, he supposed she did count,) Robin. Even if Robin’s remarks rarely made sense until quite long after the fact. That was why he went to Izo more often, anyway. He knew that it was childish, but he still attempted to avoid Ace while he tried to figure out what was going on, and Izo was his first port of call.

It was fairly easy to find him in the palace apothecary, considering he rarely went anywhere without _someone_ knowing where he was going, and Marco hesitated at the door behind going inside. Refusing to let hesitation grab his tongue, he bluntly blurted, “Izo, I- I think Ace likes me.”

Izo turned around, a look of confusion upon his face that – for some reason – faded into exasperation when he saw Marco. “Marco _, honey._ This has been _way_ to long in coming.”

Marco frowned. “What are you talking about, yoi?”

“Oh boy,” Izo sighed, head resting in his hands. “Marco, is it a problem that he likes you?”

Marco frowned even further, utterly befuddled as to why Izo was taking this so calmly. “He’s the prince, soon to be the King, and I’m a _servant!_ ”

“ _Ignoring_ that.” Izo said, rolling his eyes. “Do you have a problem with him hypothetically liking you?”

Marco’s mouth moved soundlessly, and he tried to find the words. It should’ve been a simple yes or no answer, and yet he found himself pausing, finally giving a helpless shrug. “Does he even-?” Marco asked, and Izo gave a slow nod.

“Since before the Midwinter ball,” he said, and Marco’s mouth dropped open.

“But that’s months!”

“That generally happens when you like someone,” Izo said. “You end up liking them for quite a while.” Marco narrowed his eyes at Izo’s tone, and Izo raised his hands in a half-hearted attempt to placate him. “Look, Marco, is it a problem? Because if it is, you need to tell him to stop.”

“I-” Marco started, confirmation on his lips, and then paused in indecision. Was it really a problem? Having Ace’s attention on him, Ace’s hands on his shoulders or Ace’s lips pressed softly against his cheek. He could feel his face heat at the memory, and admitted, “I’m not sure.”

“And why do you think that is?” Izo asked quietly, and Marco narrowed his eyes, knowing that particular inflection in Izo’s voice.

“Even if it was for the reason _you’re_ thinking of, I couldn’t do anything about it, yoi.”

“Do you want to?”

“Stop it,” Marco said, eyes narrowed and ignoring the pang in his chest as he realised with a mental curse that he already knew what his answer would’ve been. That he’d _always_ known, and hadn’t put it together until Ace had kissed him. Izo put up his hands in surrender, put Marco could see he hadn’t dropped the subject, and snapped again, “It doesn’t _matter_ what I want, Izo! He’s the _prince,_ and on top of being his servant, I’m a magician! If anyone ever finds out I have magic, they’ll just say I cursed the prince to fall in love with me!”

“What?”

Marco felt his heart stop. He could see Izo’s mouth drop open in horror, and pleaded desperately for this to be a dream as he slowly turned around. Not even his cruellest nightmare would present him with the sight of Ace’s betrayed expression, however, and Marco felt his stomach sink as he reached out. “Ace-”

“You- you made me fall in love with you?”

“No!” he defended, and Ace bared his teeth in a growl.

“That’s what you just _said._ ”

“Ace, even if I wanted to, which I _don’t_ , I never would’ve been able to! Magic can’t force feelings. You can lust, and you can have infatuation but you can’t-” he paused, biting his lip and praying desperately that Ace believed him. That Ace wasn’t two seconds away from calling the palace guards. “You can’t force any sort of love.”

“And how do I know you’re telling the truth?” Ace demanded.

“You trust me. Like you trusted me at Midwinter, and when we fought that troll, and any of the other times I’ve had your back.”

Ace froze, and Marco watched his fingers twitch, curling into fists and then loosening.  

“Ace,” Izo put in, hesitantly stepping forwards and interrupting their tenuous standoff, “I swear to you, magic can’t control people’s feelings.”

Ace’s shoulders slumped, and Marco breathed a mental sigh of relief, finally allowing himself to relax.“How do you know so much about it?” Ace asked curiously, and Izo cast a glance at Marco before drawling,

“Well…”

“ _Seriously?_ ” Ace said in indignation, “Was I the last to know?”

“Wait,” Marco said, head reeling, “you knew?”

“I didn’t know you cursed me.”

“I’ve _never_ cursed you,” Marco snapped grumpily.

“Then how do you explain me being head over heels for you, then?”

Marco’s head snapped up, and he regarded Ace with no small amount of shock – but Ace’s expression was serious, the hint of nerves in the unsteady shift of his feet.

“But-” Marco started, his brow furrowing, “you’re the prince. And you _hate_ magic users!”

“Correction – my _dad_ hates magic users. I think they’re kinda cool.” One side of his mouth turned upwards slightly, and Marco caught him biting his lip. “One in particular is my favourite.”

Marco felt his own smile begin to grow, and carefully stepped forwards. “And who would that be?”

“A silly servant who gets flustered when I thank him.”

“That was one time, yoi!” Marco said, and Ace laughed. Marco huffed, “Well, you’re the one who had a minor aneurism when I called you by your first name.”

“That was me figuring out you were a wizard!” Ace said, thumping him gently on the chest, and Marco’s mouth formed a soundless ‘o’. Ace laughed at his expression, and took another step closer, “but I think I can forgive your oversight for a gift. What’s the spell for getting someone to kiss you?”

“Please?” Marco suggested, bending his head lower till their noses brushed, and Ace’s arms looped over his shoulders.

“My pleasure.”


End file.
